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They spilled into the night air, and he ordered the carriage. Elliot stood with her like that, and at odd times he would brush a kiss on her forehead. Suddenly she laughed, filled with bursting happiness and relief. “Elliot.”
“I know,” he murmured, and then remarkably he laughed too.
She was completed.
Epilogue
Their wedding night…
Less than two weeks after the ton declared themselves scandalized, Emma was the Duchess of Hartford. After so many years apart, to her family’s distress, she had decided against a large wedding. Her duke had procured a special license, and they had wed in a small intimate ceremony in the chapel at Glenhaven House.
Hours after the wedding breakfast, they were ensconced in one of the most palatial bedchambers she had ever been in. Their room, for he had declared they would not have separate chambers, and she had happily agreed, was decorated with elegant carved mahogany furniture. The sofa and windows were covered with sweeping curtains in dark blue brocade velvet with silver trimming. A fireplace cast a golden sheen across her husband’s magnificent body, and she stared at him with naked hunger and admiration.
How she had missed him while she counted the days until their wedding.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, stroking the arousal he had already worked to a fever pitch in her body with his kisses, having licked places she did not know the names for and created wicked delight with his skillful fingers. Nerves thrummed through Emma as Elliot rolled dow
n the white silken stockings and garter from her leg. Though she was secure in his love, the apprehension that he might find her deeply scarred leg repulsive enveloped her. Every other article of clothing had been removed from Emma, expect that lone stocking.
“Elliot,” she whispered achingly as he untied her garters.
“Trust me?” he murmured.
She smiled. “Yes.”
He rolled down her stocking, revealing the first long jagged scar that bisected her mid-thigh and down to her knees. He stroked her skin absently with his fingers, the gesture was more soothing than words. Then he continued down, peeling back the stocking slowly, revealing more rough, twisted flesh. Her shin and calf were roped with twisted scars, the ridges rough and unseemly. He tenderly kissed the rough edges and removed her stocking in full.
He glanced up, and the love and sorrow in his eyes eased the tension inside.
“You’ll never need me again, and find I'm not there. You will always have me at your side.”
He pushed her back onto the large four poster bed, covering her body like a warm, sensual blanket. They kissed tenderly…and deeply. The dark, rich taste of him enveloped her senses, and with gasps and moans and affirmations of love, Emma and Elliot had a glorious wedding night.
One year later…
Emma smiled down at the contented baby in her arms. Julian Alexander Winthrop, the Marquess of Ashbrook and the future Duke of Hartford, was only a few minutes old, but she already loved him with her entire soul. He had a shock of dark unruly hair and the face of a Botticelli cherub, she could not imagine a more beautiful baby.
“Look at him, Elliot,” she said awe and tears roughing her voice, all the pain and discomfort of the last few months and hours forgotten.
Everything had been worth holding this precious bundle in her arms, even those last six weeks when she had been confined to bed. Not that it had been overly ghastly, the lack of activity had simply been hard to bear, but her duke had spent every day with her, reading, playing chess, painting together, and explaining to her about his business investments.
Emma had thought her happiness could not increase, but now…
“Look at his little, pink, wrinkled face. He is perfect and so handsome. Oh, Elliot, he will break many hearts,” she said with a watery laugh.
“If you believe so, my love,” her husband said indulgently.
There was no description to express the love and happiness pouring through her heart. “We are truly blessed aren’t we, my darling?”
“Indeed, we are, my love. Indeed we are.”
The Viscount and I
After jilting first a fortune hunter, then a lying libertine, Lady Fanny Dashwood has given up on marrying for love. This time it will be strictly business – a man who’ll agree to her terms, give her the children she craves, but will not trouble her heart.
Sebastian Rutledge, Viscount Shaw, has desired Lady Fanny from afar for years. However, he is a factory owner with a new title – not nearly good enough for an earl’s daughter. Until a dream opportunity arises: a marriage of convenience with the woman of his dreams. Even as their growing passion unleashes in the bedchamber, his new wife remains at arm’s length. Could a wellborn lady ever fall for an unconventional lord?
Chapter 1
